She hesitated, and his eyes flashed.
‘Give it to me. Those diamonds were the bride price I paid for you.’
‘I’m meant to hand it over to my uncle,’ she whispered.
He gave a deep laugh, a growled rumble laced with bitterness. ‘Nofokkin’ way now I’ll allow you. Not after all your lies and deception. Pass it to me.’
A shiver ran down her spine, his words cutting through their charade of the last few hours, leaving them both bare to their despair.
Without a word, she reached up and untangled the delicate diamond-lined veil from her hair, handing it to him with trembling hands.
His fingers brushed hers, sending a jolt of electricity through her.
He snatched it from her, his gaze never leaving her face.
In one swift movement, he flung it across his shoulder.
Shards of gem illumination lit up the thick lace fabric as it fluttered through the air, coming to rest on his flank like a ghostly wraith.
She studied him in silence, unsure what to make of this sudden display of ire.
As he turned back to her, his eyes burned with fierce intensity.
Within, she spotted an emotion in him that she had not glimpsed before.
A raw, infuriated pain at their trapped circumstances that mirrored her own.
‘I hoped for many years that my marriage would have been more than about the exchange of diamonds,’ he growled, rough with rage. ‘Yet your family’s persistent efforts to thwart me, your repeated cruelty and trickery, have transformed my heart into a desolate, arid wasteland. You have taught me that all I should care for is this shroud, this crown of savage wrath, and nothing more. I cannot pretend I feel nothing but contempt for you all. I don’t believe I can trust you now, Saba Lisades, let alone sleep with you. So for now, there is no freakin’ wedding bedchamber. Keep this room, it’s yours. I’ll be sleeping in the primary,’ he growled.
She gazed at him, biting her lip to stop from moaning, less about how his words shredded her and more for the utter bleakness in his eyes.
‘I don’t want to speak with or see you. That may change; however, for now, this is the only choice you have left me.’
He swiveled on his heel, the mantilla floating alongside his cloak on his shoulder, and charged through the doors.
Saba’s eyes smarted as he tracked away, veil and mantle billowing behind him.
His was no triumphant march.
His shoulders bowed like those of a man burdened by rage and betrayal, and his walls were high and firm enough to keep her at arm’s length.
She wanted to call out after him, but pride held her back.
She would not beg.
She would not put any pitiful effort into upgrading her status nor groveling her way into his affections.
Or trying to change his mind that she was not just a manipulative, conniving shrew but a woman worthy of his respect. What use would it be?
She had to be real. She was the villain in this story, the perpetrator in this tragedy, not Mak.
He would probably never value or love her after the stunt she pulled, joining in a plot to manipulate a man and marrying through subterfuge, dishonesty, and deception.
The guilt ate away at her, for she considered herself an intelligent woman, well aware of the folly and demise of any misguided woman who used manipulation and lies to trap a man. Whether through sexuality, duplicity, or even baby trapping.
Saba was acquainted with a few girls who’d attempted it.
Their shallow plans most times backfired, and misery followed when they became a non-cherished obligation to the man they duped.
